


Touching

by gabrielstolethetardis



Series: Destiel One-Shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curious Sam, First Kiss, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Relationship, Shipper Sam, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4177995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielstolethetardis/pseuds/gabrielstolethetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel appears on the Winchester's doorstep after months of radio silence bloody and broken, Dean can't stop touching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a prompt I saw on Tumblr

Sam has never wanted to forcibly push Dean and Castiel's lips together and walk away more than he does right now, sitting in the bunker and listening to the two of them argue about Harry Potter. 

It's not just the fact that _Dean_ is the one arguing that Harry and Draco very much have an undeniable amount of chemistry, while Castiel protests that Harry hates Draco immensely and Ginny is the obvious choice; it's Dean's hand, resting just slightly against Castiel's, both pressed against the dark wooden table and _touching_ , God help him.

In fact, this shit has been going on for _weeks_ , ever since Castiel came stumbling through the door of the bunker all broken and bloody after months of nothing—no contact, no calls, not even an inkling that the angel was still alive—and Dean promptly turned into a frantic mess, carrying Castiel into one of the bunker's guest rooms and bandaging him up. Sam tried, too, for days to help nurse the angel back to health—whatever had happened during the radio silence, it had banged Castiel up badly, to the point where he couldn't even summon up the strength to heal himself—but eventually he gave up, leaving Dean alone with his "friend."

Then, when Castiel finally made it out of that room after a week of breakfast-in-bed and nearly constant sleep, Dean wouldn't stop... touching him. Sometimes, it was a hand on the shoulder or the back; other times, it was a brush of fingers or knocking of elbows. When they sat, Dean would rest his knee or thigh against Castiel's—or, like today, would place his hand nearly on top of Castiel's. 

Look, Sam understands that the guy basically came back from the dead and Dean has every right to be glad—hell, even a little bit protective—but he just wishes that Dean would kiss Castiel already and save Sam the agony of watching them pine after each other 24/7. Now, with the constant touching… Sam kind of wants to throw up, or maybe lock them in a bedroom and leave for a week. 

"Dammit, Cas, forget canon!" Dean exclaims, slamming his hand on the table. With the loss of contact, his knee automatically presses against Castiel's, and Sam muffles a groan with a long swig of beer. "Draco loves Harry! Why else would he fight with him so much?"

"Maybe because they are sworn enemies, Dean," Castiel says impatiently, leaning into Dean's touch. "Whereas Harry marries Ginny and has children."

Dean heaves an angry sigh, standing suddenly and grabbing Castiel's hand. Sam almost spits out his beer. "Ok, come on Cas."

Cas frowns, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"We," Dean stresses, starting in the direction of his bedroom, "are going to watch every Harry Potter movie right now, and you are going to see why I'm right."

"That will not change anything, Dean," Castiel protests, but despite his dissent, he still allows Dean to tow him down the hall and out of sight. 

Sam downs the rest of his beer in one swallow, sliding the empty bottle down the table by the others. Then, he flips open the nearest lore book and immerses himself in the inner workings of Pagan god summoning rituals. 

He's just started a section on human sacrifice when a loud thump shakes the bunker, knocking a good chunk of lore books off their shelves and sending various relics toppling to the ground. Sam's on his feet in an instant, one hand flying to the gun tucked into the back of his pants, the other to the various bullets stashed in his pocket. He points his gun in front of him as he ventures towards Dean's room, finger twitching against the trigger. When he reaches Dean's closed door, he pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob. Maybe it's nothing; maybe Sam's overreacting. 

Then, another thump makes plaster fall in clumps from the ceiling, and with a grunt, Sam kicks the door down and charges inside, gun cocked and loaded. 

It takes Sam a beat to recognize what he's seeing, another to realize how big of a mistake he's made. He drops his gun, his cheeks burning; beside him, Dean rests a forearm against the wall above Castiel's head and glances over at Sam, his breathing slightly labored. "No offence," he gasps, "but this is a really bad time, Sam."

Castiel looks at Sam too, his hair mussed and sticking up in various directions like he's been electrocuted, and Sam thinks that now, he's definitely going to hurl. 

"Call me when you're done," Sam groans, turning and exiting the room with a sour expression coloring his face. Behind him, he hears Dean chuckle, and he mutters under his breath, "Jerk." Then, the door slams, and Sam leaves quickly before he can hear anything that he’ll regret. 


End file.
